


Five Times We Lied

by Fogfire



Category: Mission: Impossible (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Gen, spy in love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-09 10:48:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 9,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16448441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fogfire/pseuds/Fogfire
Summary: it's hard to have a relationship when you're a spy. everything you tell your partner is kind of a lie. and when they are a spy themselves, what is even true in your relationship?





	1. Chapter 1

I.

You looked down at your phone and groaned in exasperation.

Your answer was a loud laugh behind you, two tan, muscular arms sneaking around your torso and a chin resting on your shoulder.

“Stop reading my messages,” you miffed and Vega laughed again.

“I’m your teammate, sweety. I don’t have to look over your shoulder to read your messages. And no groaning here when your sister has secured you a date.”

You pull out of her embrace and turn around to look at her.

“Firstly, no reading my messages. You’re the field agent, you’re supposed to be buff and dumb.”

“Wow, thank you.” Vega winked, pulled a sweatshirt out of her bag and pulled it over her tank top, “I’m gonna tell Fred you said that.”

“Don’t!” You b egged and she grinned like the devil she was.

“And by the way,” you came back to your original topic, “Stop hacking my phone! I know you’ve done it, because there’s no other reason as to why you know about that date.”

Vega smiled, pulled her long black hair back into a ponytail and winked again.

“Maybe I did. But Steve sounds nice.”

“He doesn’t. He’s a banker and he’s boring.”

“How do you know?”

“I went to school with him! In fifth grade he used to push his hand into his boxers, scratch his tiny manhood and smell his fingers afterwards.”

Vega looks at you in horror and you nod solemnly.

“I know. And my sister is setting me up with him. That tells you a lot about how desperate I am.”

“Then get a date with someone else. You’re cute, there must be tons of guys asking you out.”

You laugh out loud and grab your bag.

“Yeah, if a ton is the same as zero, nada, zilch, then yes, tons of guys are asking me out. Okay, so… I’m just going to go to my date now, pretend I’m working as a baker, know a lout about bread… and cake… and bread things… and then I say my fifteen cats are waiting for me at home and leave.”

You try to walk past Vega but she pulls you into another tight embrace and ruffles your hair.

“You’re going to get a great guy someday. Just… you know… read a bit about what a baker does or you’re going to get made.”

You snort and push her away.

“I’m not going to get made and you stop touching and hugging me. I’m not your toy.”

“But you’re squishy!” She yells after you as you step out.

-

“Dates are terrible,” you grumble as you step out of the Taxi that you had to call yourself after yet another disastrous date your sister had set up for you, “Why do we even do dating?”

The Taxi driver looks at you, confusion written all over his face.

“Sorry…” you mumble and blush, pulling out your purse to pay him.

Sure, you haven’t put on your best dress tonight or used Vegas make-up tricks. It had just been Stinky-Steve after all. But that didn’t mean you were untouchable when it came to the lack of affection you had in your life.

You sighed and stopped on the busy pavement, pulling your coat around you as the wind picked up.

So many people and you still managed to be single.

“Better line up!” You grumbled, “If you’re planning on asking me out you better pick a number or you will have to wait between Mister Not asking me out and Mister not giving a shit about me.”

“Any chance I could cut the line then?” A friendly voice asked behind you and you jumped, terrified beyond belief. But it’s not a crazy killer, not a thug hired by some bigger thug and not the guy whose apartment you blew up right at the beginning of your career in bomb-building.

It’s just a very cute guy who has a very cute smile and has caught you in one of your moments of awkwardness.

“I-I, well, you-”, you stumble over your words, unable to come up with a witty comeback like Vega would. Maybe you should just put your training to good use, kick him in the guts and run for your life.

You’re saved by the start of a sudden downpour, rain crashing down on you like buckets of water.

You squeal in shock and run for cover, unable to see anything that is more than one step away, the rain cutting everything off like a thick curtain of water, drenching you with cold.

And then it stops and you look up to a big blue umbrella over your head.

“I’m Scotty,” the guy from before says, his glasses drenched in water, his wispy hair sticking to his forehead.

You’re breathless and envious at the same time. Only a guy can get drenched in rain and look hot afterwards instead of imitating a wet poodle - like you do.

“Liz,” you finally manage to answer and stick out your hand for him to shake.

He’s got warm hands and a firm grip and you have that weird wish that he’d never let go. Thank you brain.

“Is that short for Elizabeth?” He asks.

“Lizbertha,” you answer, cursing yourself for pulling that dumb stunt with the bomb a year ago that made Vega change your fake name.

He smiles and it makes his eyes crinkle and damn, you’re not going to swoon.

“So, does the offer still stand?”

“What offer?” You ask, confused, trying to remember the field agent training you’ve had.

“The picking a number to ask you for a date thing.”

“Oh… I… well that was a joke.”

“No date then?”

You stare at him in shock. Is this a trap? He’s looking way too good to just ask you out on a date. And he’s still holding your hand? This is a trap.

“Who are you working for?” You ask and he blinks.

“Barnes and Nobles. I do their IT stuff.”

“The Book Shop?”

“Exactly. The one who makes the great coffee.”

“Well, technically the shop doesn’t make it, right? It’s the coffee shop in the middle of the- and I’m rambling, sorry,” you mumble and pull your hand from his, “I do that a lot.”

“Well, technically you were just correcting me, so there’s nothing wrong with that.”

He smiles again and damnit, yes, you’re swooning.

“What are you doing? For work, I mean?”

“Oh, I’m a baker,” you lie effortlessly after having told the same story to Stinky-Steve just hours ago, “I bake bread and stuff.”

“Sounds interesting. Well, if I can’t pick a number to ask you out, would you maybe give me yours instead?”

“Oh… yes, sure.” You give him a card and he smiles.

“Your last name is Baker too?”

“Yeah…” You mumble awkwardly and he pulls a card out of his pocket and holds it out for you.

“Nothing wrong with picking a job that fits your name. Can you guess the joke in mine?”

You look at the card, at the tiny picture of his face next to his name and let out a laugh.

“Your name is Scotty Montgomery? Were your parents Star Trek fans or is that just a coincidence?”

“I am convinced my mother chose my father only for his last name. And thankfully they didn’t get a girl.”


	2. II

II.

“All I’m saying it that she’s really cute and I don’t know what to do.”

Ethan stops in his tracks and looks at him in utter disbelief.

“You don’t know what to do?! This is not the first time you’ve dated, you don’t forget those things.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“You’re a field agent too. You’re skilled in make-belief.”

Benji stares at him in something like exasperation.

“I don’t want to lure her into something. I want her to like me like I am.”

“And you told her your name is Scotty?”

Benji visibly deflates. “Yes.”

“Well, don’t let that get to you. You like her, she obviously likes you too, ask her on a date and see what happens. Worked with me and Julia.”

“But-”

“No buts,” Ethan claps him on the back, “You’re a skilled agent, you’re able to pull of a date. And now, head back in the game, we’ve got work to do.”

-

“Vega,” you almost hyperventilated and threw your phone across the phone into her hands, “Check my messages.”

She caught the mobile phone with ease and gave you a weird look.

“Since when am I allowed to go through your phone?”

“Since I’m waiting for an important message, am nervous about said important message and have a unstable bomb to attend to.”

“Ah, yes, don’t let that thing blow us up,” she joked and you wanted to blow an annoyed raspberry at that, but the chemicals were unstable at best and you didn’t want some spit to set off a reaction.

Fifteen minutes later you can step out of your suit and Vega is smiling smugly.

“So… Scotty?”

You blush and try to get your phone back but she’s holding it over your head.

“Someone’s got a date!” She singsongs, “And you’re blushing, which means he’s cute and his nickname is not Stinky-Steve. Do you want me to do your make-up?”

“Would you?”

-

“Oh wow.” Scotty looks at you with wide eyes and you smile bashfully.

“It’s just a dress,” you say and smooth down the flowery skirt, “You look good too.”

“It’s just a sweater,” he jokes back and steps away from the door to let you in.

“I know, inviting you over to my apartment is a bit risky for a first date, but… well I thought that watching Star Trek movies and cooking together would be nice to get to know each other?”

“It’s a lovely idea,” you say, remembering how you had squealed when you had read the invitation. Fred had sent you a pointed look.

You clutch your purse tighter, unable to forget the Glock that’s hidden in it. Fred had made his point in not dropping personal security very clear.

“So… I’ve already bought everything for Chicken Alfredo, I hope you like that.”

“Love it,” you interrupt him when you notice that he’s actually nervous about this, “Chicken Alfredo can only be topped by my sisters grilled chicken sandwiches.”

“Well, you haven’t tried my Chicken Alfredo yet. I’ve never baked before but I copied a recipe out of a book at work and bought the ingredients. I mean, I can’t buy a cake for a baker, right?”

“Oh, that’s… very thoughtful of you,” you try to praise him, forcing down the nervous laugh.

“Could I, eh, use the toilet maybe?”

“Oh yes, just the first door on the right.”

-

You sit down on the toilet and pull your emergency phone out of your bra, pressing it against your ear.

“Vega! Get me out of here!” You hiss and turn on the tap to cover the noises.

“Is he trying to seduce you?”

“No, stop joking, he’s trying to get me to bake something. I can’t bake for sh-oes!”

“What are you talking about? You said yourself that building a bomb is like baking, just deadlier.”

“That was a joke, you sick duck.”

“I love you too, but seriously, I checked his files. Scotty Montgomery is a sweetheart, his papers are so good, he would have to pay the IMF to make him something in this quality.”

“Oh god, what if he is in the IMF?”

“Stop being paranoid. I’ve heard Fred and I know you have your gun, pepper spray, acid chewing gum and those little emergency bombs with you that you designed. I’m more afraid for him than for you. Now go out and rock the cute underwear I gave you.”

“I’m not going to let him see my underwear.”

“If you say so.” She hangs up on you and you sigh in exasperation. Well, if you eff up the cake, you can just throw one of the emergency bombs into it and flee the scene.

-

“Add the flour,” Benji reads and looks up to smile at you.

You’ve got flour on your nose already and you’re completely unaware of it.

So far everything is going great. He’s decided that starting with the cake will probably be best - it has to stay in the oven for some time after all.

He’s never had to use the safe apartment before and he’s glad he had followed Ethan’s advice and got there early to clean it up a bit.

Someone has left Condoms in the bathroom drawers, the kitchen cupboards had been filled with weapons and the Couch table had been occupied by an array of books in weird languages. Russian he could identify but he had been at loss with the rest.

He hates being paranoid, but he didn’t get onto the field without being careful.

“Scotty?” He flinches and turns his focus back to you.

“Yes, darling?”

You blush and it’s so cute he almost forgets that he’s supposed to be the Barnes and Nobles Guy.

“What’s next on the recipe?”

-

“Gosh, this is good,” you dig into the food. It really is good, but your plan is to eat as much as you can on the main dish to spare yourself from the disaster that will most likely be the cake.

He laughs at you across the table.

“Glad you like it. Is it better than your Sisters Grilled Chicken-”

“No,” you interrupt him with a full mouth and hastily gulp down the remainder of the bite you had taken, “Sorry to disappoint you, but my Sister is still the better cook.”

“What’s her name? I need to ask her for advice.”

“Peggy,” you answer and freeze. Shoot. You did not just tell a guy you didn’t know your sisters name!

“So Peggy and Lizbertha?”

“Margareth,” you lie quickly, “Margareth and Lizbertha to he family, Peggy and Liz to our friends. And Scotty is short for?”

“Scotland,” he jokes and she snorts.

“So you’ve been working in Barnes and Nobles… can you recommend a book?”

“I can recommend an IT-Guy if you ever have problems with your computer,” he says and you want to answer with a joke when the sound of an explosion interrupts your coziness.

It’s close, right behind the kitchen door.

Oh duck.

-

When you step into the kitchen, the oven is no longer existent, just a black, smoking hole in the wall.

“I-” you start helplessly, “I’m still in training?”

Benji looks at you, at your wide innocent eyes, the hint of flour still stuck to your nose and the uneasiness in your smile.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

And he starts to laugh, thick pearls of laughter rolling out of him like waves. This is what he wanted. Something natural, something easy. You join his laughter with a chuckle at first and then you buckle beneath the amusement, sinking to the floor in a giggling mess and you make grabby hands at him but he can’t pull you up, just lets you pull him down.

You’re sitting on the dirty floor in a smoke filled kitchen, laughing like madmen and he thinks this is it.

“I’m sorry I blew up your kitchen, Scotty,” you mumble, still giggling, “At least your job is less risky than mine.”

And his heart squeezes painfully, because no, his job isn’t less risky and Scotty isn’t real.


	3. III

“Want a cupcake?” You hand Vega a paper bag and she grabs it eagerly, tearing the paper apart.

“Vanilla cinnamon? Damn, your boy spoils you.”

“He’s not my boy,” you argue, “And stop cursing around me or I will stop sharing my load of baked goods with you.”

“You would never. You love me too much.”

“I love Scotty more,” you quip and lean into your locker to hide the blush on your face.

But you can’t mute Vega’s excited squealing.

“You said you love him! Have you kissed him yet?”

“No. It’s too early.”

“Too early my ass. How long have been dating now? Two months?”

“It hasn’t even been one, you duck!”

“Quack!” She says and bites into her cupcake, moaning in bliss when she tastes the mixture of Vanilla and cinnamon.

“Those are so great. Where does he get them?”

“Barnes and Nobles. He sends me the recipes too, so I can make them at home.”

“Do you?” Vega asks, all excited.

“You’ve seen my kitchen.”

“You mean the meth lab in the middle of your apartment?”

“It’s not a- oh forget it.”

-

“You want me to come with you on your date?” Ethan asks and pulls a face, “Didn’t we just talk yesterday about how you want to kiss her?”

“That’s the point,” Benji declares, “I want her to meet my friends. That way everything will seem more real and maybe I will be able to kiss her then.”

“So your problem is that you don’t believe in Scotty enough to kiss her? If you don’t believe in your cover, she won’t either.”

“That’s why I need you there. Come on. She’s going to bring a friend of hers, we eat at that Italian restaurant you showed me a year ago and then we’re going to watch a movie.”

“A movie? You’re setting me up with your girlfriends best friend so you can watch a movie with her?”

“They’re showing the newest Star Trek movie and she wanted to see it. She says the guy who plays Scotty Montgomery looks a lot like me.”

“You just want to snog in the backseats.”

Benji throws him a scandalized look, “I would never snog during a Star Trek movie! You should know me better! You’re supposed to play my best friend.”

“Alright, alright, what’s my name? What do I do for a living?”

-

“Hi, I’m Tod.”

You shake the hand of Scotty’s dark haired best friend who smiles at you. He wears old fashioned glasses and his hair is combed to the side. He looks like an old-fashioned principal and his name fits him better than his job does.

“Hi Tod, nice to meet you, Scotty’s told me a lot about you. You work in a travel agency, right?”

“Good memory. If you ever need to book a holiday, I’m happy to help.”

“Oh, I only ever go and visit my parents in Philadelphia,” you lie and pull Vega towards you, “But my friend Fern here has been dreaming about going to India since she was little.”

Vega throws you a side glance. She’s followed your request and made herself look less pretty than she is, a task she needed fake teeth, a pair of ugly glasses and a lot of make-up for.

Scotty had been nothing more but a sweetheart since you started dating, but that didn’t mean you would let him meet your best friend who used to model to pay her college fees without precautions. And Tod did look… friendly?

-

“How’s the baking training going?” Scotty asks when you leave the restaurant.

“Great, actually, I’ve cleaned out my own kitchen so I can train at home.”

“You did?” Vega asks surprised and you nod with clenched teeth, thinking of the box with highly explosive chemicals you still had to discard.

“Be careful,” Scotty asks, “I don’t want you to blow up your oven when I’m not around.”

“So I can do it when you are around?” You joke and he blushes.

And it’s a great evening.

It’s a great movie, it’s Vega sitting beside you in a comfy cinema chair as if you’re just best friends since college and not best friends since almost killing someone important on a mission. It’s Scotty’s hand holding yours during the movie and your other hands touching when you both take popcorn at the same time.

Tonight you’re Liz, you’re friends with a girl called Fern, you’re learning how to bake, you have family in Philadelphia and yes, none of that is true, but you’re in love with a guy called Scotty and even though you’re a bit afraid of tainting him, he seems to be just as much in love with you too.

And then Chekov says “Oy Captain, we are basically standing on a very large bomb,” on the screen and Vega gets a laughing fit that shakes her whole body and you throw popcorn at her to get her to shut up and it feels like those two worlds, the bomb-maker-you and the baker-in-training-you can meld without falling apart.

-

“Thank you for this evening,” you mumble hours later on the doorstep of your apartment complex. You want to invite him in, but there is still a box with highly dangerous chemicals in the middle of your kitchen and you’re pretty sure you forgot to put the bag with acidic chewing gum away, or the equipment to clean your gun…

“Can I kiss you?” He asks and you nod, unable to speak.

It’s a sweet kiss, soft and delicate but eager at the same time and you find yourself falling even more for him, if that’s even possible.

“Is that your first kiss?” He mumbles when he’s pulled back a bit, his breath ghosting over your face. He smells like salty popcorn and lemonade and you feel like you’re seventeen, about to sneak back inside after curfew ends.

“Yes,” you whisper back, because you don’t want to count kissing on a mission as a real experience.

“And yours?”

“The first that matters.”


	4. IV

“I will be gone for a few days,” Scotty mumbles and you press your phone harder against your ear to hear him better while you pack yourself.

“What for?” You ask and halt when you find a jacket that definitely does not belong to you.

“Oh…” he stops for a moment and you can hear him moving around in his apartment, “There’s a book fair on the other side of America and I have to help with IT.”

“Well, at least you will be able to see another city, right? As an American I have to be insistent that you take the chance to get to know my home country.”

He laughs softly. “Does that mean I can take you to England too and show you the country America originated from?”

“Only if you take me out for tea there.”

“I will,” he says and you can hear the smile in his voice, “But I’m still sorry that I’m going to miss our TV night.”

“Spock can totally wait another week. How long are you going to be away?”

“It’s probably going to take me five days. We can double our amount of TV watching when I come back to make up for the lost time.”

“Are you inviting me to a sleepover then?” You joke and blush at the same time when you hear him pull in a loud breath.

“If you want to?” He asks and you look down at your own suitcase. Five days won’t be enough for your own mission.

“I want to,” you tell him with a beating heart, “But I might not be home when you come back.”

You bite your lip, thinking hard for a reason to leave the city. Baking fair? He could google that and catch you lying. Family business to attend to? A funeral would afford to act sad and you’re not good at that. A wedding would mean that he could come.

“My cousin is having her baby and she wants me to be there.”

“Oh? I didn’t know she was pregnant.”

“I have so many cousins I must have forgotten to tell you. My family has a lot of early babies too, so maybe I will be home before you.”

“We will just have to wait it out then.”

There’s silence on the line, only the sound of the two of you breathing.

“I have to go in two hours,” he mumbles and you look at your clock. Three for you.

“I can be at your place in twenty minutes,” you answer, “Maybe a last good luck kiss will bring us both back home sooner.”

“That would be wonderful.”

-

Ethan throws him a look when he gets into the car but Benji just licks his lips and stays quiet.

He can still feel your lips on his, can still taste the sweetness of your cherry lip gloss and if he closes his eyes he can smell your shampoo too.

It helps against the feeling of a gun strapped to his hip and the weight of the secrets on his back.

“Five days,” Ethan says when they stop in front of a jet, “Five days and you’re back to being just Scotty.”

“Can’t wait,” Benji breathes and sends his friend a look, “But for the next five days I can only be Benji, nothing more. Don’t want us to get killed.”

“Thank you,” Ethan says with an almost solemn voice and claps him on the back.

-

“Fred’s acting weird,” you mumble to Vega and strap your gun to your hip.

She throws you a look that shuts you up.

“I know,” she mumbles when the team has separated, “Something ISs cooking and it’s not smelling good.”

“That’s a weird comparison,” you try to lighten the mood, but it doesn’t work. Anxiety has settled in the pit of your stomach.

“Just get out of this mission alive,” you beg her, pulling at the simple silver necklace around your neck whose twin is worn by Vega, “And worry about the rest later.”

She sends you a smile that carries more than you want to know.


	5. V

You’re too drugged from the painkillers to be able to identify what code this situation is. Code Red maybe?

Scotty is standing in front of your apartment door. Your real apartment. That he knows you live in since he’s brought you home the very first time you met.

And to top that you’re drugged with painkillers, you’re wearing a ratty, old pajama in a lion king design and your hair is up in a greasy, messy bun. What a bullet to the arm does to you…

“What are you doing here?” You mumble and lean against the wall for support.

He looks cute and you’re not sure if that is because you haven’t seen him for more than a week or because that sweater west really suits him.

“You’re my girlfriend,” he reminds you, “You’ve sent me a message that you’ve burnt your arm badly and I’m here to help you.”

“That’s really sweet of you,” you mumble and he smiles and leans forward to drop a soft kiss on your lips.

“It will be if you let me in.”

You try to think if that’s okay. Probably not, but Fred had been a dick the whole mission and you getting shot in the arm plus standing a bit too close to a bomb going off hadn’t been reason enough for him to let you go home earlier. Writing reports was always a drag but with a concussion and a bleeding arm?

“Hello? Did you hear me?”

Scotty waved his hand in front of your face.

“Sorry,” you stepped to the side to let him in, “The painkillers are messing up my brain.”

“I will heat up the soup I brought for you. Having something in your stomach will make you feel better instantly.”

“Okay,” you mumbled weakly. The kitchen was a safe place since you had cleaned out your lab.

You watched his back and slipped into your bedroom, pushing your mission bag deep under your bed where he couldn’t accidentally find it.

-

He has seen people die in the last five days and he has saved a lot more.

The memories are heavy on his shoulders, heavy in his mind and he wonders if Ethan talks about his job when he’s with Julia.

He wants to talk about it with you. But you’re fragile and delicate and he can’t burden you with all the things he’s done and survived.

Being Scotty Montgomery has never been as hard as it is today.

-

Scotty has made you soup, has helped you but something over the bandage on your arm so you could take a bath, has washed your hair. He has been nothing but an angel towards you for the time he has been here.

And you feel like you don’t deserve it.

People die every day but this week some of them died because you failed to do your job fast enough.

“You’re thinking too loud,” Scotty mumbles and kisses the crown of your head.

“Sorry,” you mumble back and bury your face a bit deeper in his chest. He’s warm and cozy and he’s lying in bed with you as if he’s yours and you are his. If only life would really be that easy.

Next: Part VI - the one time we had to be honest


	6. The one time we had to be honest

Two days after your sleepover, or, better phrased, you drooling on Scotty’s chest while he tried to get up to pee, your work phone blares.

“Three words,” Vega pants into the line, “Bomb! Moscow! Now!”

You pulled your bag out from under the bed and pressed your phone against your ear, waiting for Scotty to pick up his phone. There is no rule book for this kind of situation but you hope that he will swallow the newborn relative story again. Babies did need care, right?

But Scotty doesn’t pick up his phone.

You leave a quick message instead and jump into the car that’s already waiting for you.

-

“Dammit…”

Ethan looks up.

“What’s the matter? Problem with the software?”

“No, I left my phone at home. I can’t call Liz,” Benji explained and plugged a hard drive into his laptop.

“If you absolutely need to, call her when we’re landed in Moscow,” Ethan offered.

“Better yet, call her when we’ve got the bad guys,” Jane comments, “This isn’t a holiday trip, we’re here to work.”

“I know,” Benji grumbled, “But she’s injured and I don’t want her to worry.”

-

“How’s your arm?” Vega asks when you’re settled on the Jet, waiting for Fred to share his information.

“I will live,” you watch Fred with careful eyes when he comes back from talking to the pilot.

Being a Team Leader didn’t automatically make you foolproof and your last mission shouldn’t have ended the way it did.

The mission, now matter how much of an emergency it was, sounded simple in theory.

A museum reopened, showcasing not only art pieces worth billions of dollars but also the imperial crown of Russia. The list of important people visiting is almost as long as the list of people who want them dead.

“According to our dark-web Intel there’s going to be at least one bomb. That’s why we’re there. Find the bomb, find the bomber, save the people.”

Fred looked at you. “What does the pro think?”

You force back a snort. Of course. Now he’s playing nice but three days ago he didn’t give a damn about your injured arm.

“They will have security. A lot of it. Not high quality of course, but they will search the obvious places. The bomb will be small and if set correctly, powerful enough to destroy the whole building.”

“There’s also talk about a weapon deal taking place. Do you reckon it could involve the bomb?”

You eye Fred with a strong feeling of mistrust.

“What exactly is the talk about.”

“I’m telling you everything I know,” he insists but you don’t believe him.

“A bomb is a weapon,” you dismiss him instead, “So technically it could involve a bomb.”

“In that case,” he looks down at you, his smirk patronizing, “It is good we have the best bomb builder in the world with us.”

You pull a face behind his back when he turns back to the pilot.

Flattering you now won’t make you forget anything he’s said and done.

-

“This is the list of arms dealer that will have an interest in being there,” Ethan hands them the files, lists of Names and Pictures, “We know they have someone in our lines helping them and he is probably trying to sell them information today. Which means that if someone tells you that he’s an agent, do not trust him. He might be our guy. Or girl.”

Benji flips through the list, looking at the faces.

“And we’re sure that the mole is from IMF?”

“As sure as we can be in a situation like this.”

-

“Bra-holster?” You ask with disbelief, “Are you kidding me?”

“You’ll need it,” Fred drops a bundle of soft blue fabric in your arms, “You’re posing as a visitor, you can’t just showcase your gun. They have security there.”

“Visitor?!” Vegas voice is cold enough to make you shiver and her anger isn’t even directed at you, “Why would she pose as a visitor? She needs to be on where the bomb is and a visitor can’t just slip past closed doors.”

“She’s the visitor, you’re the security woman, that’s the mission. Take it or leave it,” Fred says and throws Vega a bundle of black, thick fabric. He leaves for the front cabin again, giving them space to dress themselves.

Vega waits until she’s sure that he won’t listen in on them before she turns to you with a look of determination on her face.

“Keep your eyes open,” she says, “And don’t forget our safe word.”

“I won’t,” you say, “And now help me in this terrible dress. Who even thought of bra-holsters? They’re terrible.”

-

Benji can’t help to feel under-dressed when he enters the museum. He’s posing as a reporter and with the gray suit, the plain shirt and the red tie he looks just like every other reporter. Doesn’t mean he feels confident in his clothes when everyone else is wearing clothes that cost more than an apartment in New York.

He can hear Ethan’s voice in his ear piece and looks around, scanning the people standing nearby through his glasses.

“I’m going up,” he mumbles and softly pats the shoulder bag he’s slung around his shoulder. Instead of whatever a reporter has with him, his bag is filled with terribly costly spy tech and his trustworthy laptop.

There’s a flash of blue just a few steps ahead of him and he turns right to follow it without really meaning too. He stops, face to face with a showcase. He doesn’t look down to see what it contains, just looks through the thick glass at the person who is standing on the other side.

A blue, flowery summer dress, hair in a loose up-do, the girl looks up at the ceiling with awe. She looks like you and he can’t help to call.

“Liz?”

-


	7. The one time we had to be honest

“I’m checking downstairs,” Vega’s voice sounds clear in your ear, “Try to play your part as good as you can while I do the work. Talk Russian if you can, find the arms dealer.”

“You really think there is one?” You ask and slip past a guy that looks like that archer-guy from the Avengers movie poster. He looks at you and you smile and greet him in Russian and he looks away, losing interest in you. Americans are easy to manipulate. Maybe because you’re one as well.

“Fred’s not answering any of my calls, what do you think we’re doing here?” Vega asks back, her tone just as sharp as the knifes she likes to throw.

“I just want to have a home when we get out of this,” you mumble and run up the stairs as lady-like as you can.

“I can’t promise anything,” Vega mumbles, “But I will try to make it happen.”

“I know you do.”

You reach the end of the staircase and walk into the next room, folding your arms behind your back and pushing back your shoulders as well. You’re awfully aware of the weight of the gun lodged between your breasts. Bra-holsters are the most horrible thing ever invented and if you’d have to take a guess you’d say they had been invented by a men’s only group.

They should have given you a bigger purse instead.

You walk around a showcase, looking up at the ceiling. It’s beautiful but you can’t have an eye for that in your job, you have to look for hidden weapons. A bomb does not have to be big if placed correctly. But with all the people here the bomber would need to be able to climb like a spider and have the ability to become invisible if he wanted to get his job done.

You’re ready to turn around, find Fred and give him a piece of your mind when a familiar voice rings out.

“Liz?”

You turn around, shock creeping through your veins like slow traveling ice.

He’s right there, on the other side of the showcase and you can’t run nor hide.

“Scotty?” You ask back and he swallows thickly.

You blink and force yourself to breath, to make the first step.

“Did you get my message?” You ask and walk around the showcase, “I called you, to tell you that I had to leave.”

“You did?” He looks surprised. Looks like you could have spared yourself the trouble of talking to his voice-mail then, “But why are you here?”

“My Cousin,” you say as if that should have been clear from the start and grab his arm, pulling him away from the showcase, “Come on, walk with me for a bit. Why are you here anyway?”

“I work here,” he says, “IT fair.”

“Barnes and Nobles has a shop in Moscow?” His hand curls around yours as you step out the door. Just a few steps away from you a guy turns around, looking at the two of you. He looks like Tod, Scotty’s best friend, but with a better haircut and dressed in an expensive suit.

-

Benji catches Ethan’s eyes and softly shakes his head no.

No, it means, I can take this. This won’t interfere with our job.

“Yes,” he says and pulls her down the stairs, towards the door. He needs to get Liz out of this museum and into a cab. Moscow won’t be safe for the next days but everything in this city will be safer than this building is today.

“How is your cousin anyway? How’s the baby doing? I didn’t know she lived in Moscow, didn’t you say your family was from Philadelphia?”

“Her husband works here,” you say, thankful that Scotty tends to babble when he gets nervous. Why is he nervous anyway, you wonder, but dismiss it when you spot a familiar face in the crowd beneath your feet, “You know, my Cousin’s husband is here, Fred, we should say hi. I just saw him walk towards the crown room.”

“I’m on my way,” Vegas voice is in your ear again and you turn and see a security guard trying to make her way through the crowds.

“I’d love to, but it’s getting crowded,” Benji moves his other hand to your shoulder to lead you down the stairs, “How about you meet me in the city in an hour or two?”

You turn to him, surprise on your face, “But I haven’t seen the crown yet.”

He can feel sweat forming at the back of his neck. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go.

“We can take a look at it tomorrow? Just the two of us?” He wants to say more, can feel the words forming on his tongue but bites them back. He’s nervous and he tends to babble when he gets nervous. And you know him good enough to notice that.

And then there’s Brandt walking up the stairs, looking at him and you and there’s a question in his eyes that Benji doesn’t want to hear.

“What do you say?” He urges you, right when someone walks into his back, pushing him forward and into you.

-

You never know how good an agent you are until you manage to notice several things at once. The American guy that looks like he’s stepped out of the avengers movie poster walking up the stairs, looking at you, the question in his eyes just moments away from being spoken out loud; Fred reappearing and entering one of the dozen doors downstairs; Vegas voice in your ear, calling out to you for Fred’s location and, probably the most important thing, the gun strapped to Scotty’s hip digging into your lower back.

You haves to act before he can and you have to do it fast.

The American opens his mouth to speak, flawless Russian with the hint of an American accent, “Is this man bothering you?”

“Not at all,” you answer and put your right foot right next to the stair-wail, “I’m already on my way.”

He looks at you in surprise, but the words aren’t meant for him or Scotty. You jump onto the stair-wail and slide down in an adrenaline-inducing speed, landing right next to a waiter with a tray full of champagne flutes. You take one flute while you walk away as fast as you can without running and pull a pill out of your purse, cracking it just the tiniest bit.

“Liz!” That’s Scotty’s voice. You don’t have to look back to know he’s coming closer, but there’s also a woman coming straight for you and you drop the pill into your champagne and place the glass on the tray of the waiter standing right next to you.

Acid and champagne react just like you’ve expected it. The glasses shatter, champagne sprays everywhere and you slip past almost unseen.

-


	8. The one time we had to be honest

“Benji!” Ethan’s voice is a hissing sound in his ear and Jane looks at him with enough anger to melt anyone into a puddle. She’s drenched in champagne but that doesn’t make her look less intimidating.

“Who’s this woman?” Brandt asks from his post on the stairs, “IMF Agent?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Benji looks for her face, her blue dress in the crowd, but she’s disappeared, “That’s just Liz, my girlfriend. She’s a baker.”

“And you’re an IMF Agent and lying to yourself,” Jane barks, “I need to change to be useful here, guys, keep an eye on that girl.”

“She’s not dangerous, she-” Benji interrupts himself, bites his tongue and nods to himself, “I will take care of her.”

“Don’t mess it up,” Ethan mumbles, “We don’t have time for drama, this is Moscow and they will put us all in a Russian prison if we dare to make a mistake.”

-

You look at the dark wood of the door in front of you that’s shielding you from the mass of people in the museum. It’s hard to control your breathing, but harder to accept the harsh reality.

“He’s an Agent,” you whisper, trusting Vega to hear you nonetheless, “Scotty’s an Agent. He’s here with his team. There’s a guy controlling the stairs, looks like that archer from Avengers. Tod too, but he’s upstairs and a woman but I sprayed her with champagne.”

“Did you use your pills?” Vegas voice is calm and welcome in your ears. At least you can always trust her.

“Sure I did,” you whisper, “If she’s smart enough to get herself changed immediately we will have her back here in about ten minutes but if she insists on staying the mixture will dry on her skin. That would be funny.”

“If she’s an Agent, she will change,” Vega stops and you can hear her take a deep breath.

“Alright, I have eyes on them. They’re IMF.”

“How do you know?”

“The Staircase guy’s name is Brandt. We had a… thing… we worked together on some missions and he’s cute. But that was years ago.”

“Should I take him out then?”

“What? No! I’m going to walk over and get us information about their mission. Go track down Fred instead.”

“You mean find the bomb we’re searching for.”

“Yes, that.”

-

“Will…” Vega greets him with the smile she used to have reserved for him, “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Fancy seeing you in clothes like that,” he gestures to her security outfit, “Care to explain why you’re here?”

“IMF,” she admits easily, “My team leader dragged me here on a whim, apparently there’s word of a bomb?”

He looks her over carefully and she smiles and poses for him as if it’s just a game for her.

“Where’s the rest of your team?”

“Why do you ask? Am I not enough for you?”

“What are you really working on, Vega?” He steps closer and Vega narrows her eyes, leaning forward as well.

“I don’t like the way you’re asking. Do you want me to run from you?”

“Do you want to run from me?” He asks back and when she hesitates, just for the blink of a moment, he grabs her hand and pulls her to him.

“Don’t make a scene,” he tells her with a hushed voice, “You may wear a security uniform, but a mere uniform won’t save you from prison.”

Vega closes the distance and kisses the corner of his mouth with a dare in her eyes.

“Take me away then, Agent Brandt, and I will tell you everything I know.”

He walks her out of the Museum, down to streets and into a Van, where a woman looks surprised to see them. She might not be able to get back in now, but the number of Agent’s standing in your way is now reduced by two.

-

“Uhura is with Krall, I repeat, Uhura is with Krall.”

Vegas voice is low and rushed in your ear but you understand her nonetheless. It’s a bit funny that she’s named her Ex after the villain of the newest Star Trek movie, but you’re not going to argue with her on that.

You slip out of the closet instead, keeping an eye out for everyone who is not supposed to see you. There’s no way for you to change your dress and your gun is still firmly stuck between your breasts. Pulling it out would is not an option if you can’t carry it around openly.

If you understood Vega’s code correctly, the staircase guy is out of the game and if their team is trained just a bit like yours, the woman won’t let them stay on their own. Which means she will either call Scotty back, as he shouldn’t be guarding you anyway, or she will stay herself. Either way, it means there are two people less you’ll have to worry about.

“Liz!” Scotty appears from out of nowhere and grabs your arm. The injured one.

You gasp out in pain and he releases you with an apologize. You use your chance, move forward, pull his gun and press it against his stomach.

“Don’t move,” you whisper and force yourself to look him in the eyes.

There’s so much shock and hurt where only two days ago was nothing but love and adoration. You want that back, that blind trust you had in him, he had in you.

“You’re IMF?” He nods weakly and makes the mistake of lowering his arms. He doesn’t even try to stop you, try to push you away. Is he really such a lovesick fool that he would willingly let you shoot him?

“I am too,” you assure him, “What are you working on?”

“I can’t… I can’t tell you.”

You look around. There are too many people to discuss this here and there’s still that Tod guy you need to worry about. Where is he anyway?

“Do what you want,” you hush, “But you’re going to listen to me and you’re going to listen to me now.” 

You push him forward, the gun still pressed into his abdomen and your mind does the absolute worst and reminds you how soft the skin is there. If there has ever been a wrong moment to think about the body of your partner, it’s this.


	9. The one time we had to be honest

It’s just a few steps until you’re back in the closet. You take the ammo out of his gun and hand it back to him. “Just one bullet.” 

You slip the ammo into your bra and try to pull your own gun out of your bra holster. But it’s stuck.

“Fudge.” You pull harder, almost tearing apart your bra.

“What are you doing, Liz?”

“My name’s not Liz!” You hiss, “And I’m trying to give you my gun to show that I’m sincere, but it’s stuck.”

“Need a hand?” He stretches out his hand and you look at him with the most scandalous face you can muster.

“It’s a bra-holster. We’re at a party. I’m not letting you put your hand down my bra.”

“We’re in a closet and I don’t want you to shoot yourself.”

“I’m not going to shoot myself! I have to tell you why we’re here!”

“Would you cut the babbling!” Vega’s voice is loud and clear in your ear, “You’re practically standing on a very large bomb.”

“You don’t need to scream our safe code at me!” You yell and Scotty looks at you with a mixture of panic and confusion.

“I’m stating the facts, Chipmunk!”

“What is going on?!” Scotty interrupts and you take a deep breath, push down your dress to pull off your bra and pull the gun out of the holster.

Scotty’s eyes are wide and you slip the dress back up, not bothering to put the half teared bra back on again.

“Our team leader has gone rogue. There’s probably a bomb in this building and an arms deal going on at the same time.”

“And what am I supposed to do?” Scotty asks.

“You can either help me or you stay out of my way.” You hold your gun out for him, “If you want to help me, hold my gun for me.”

“I-” He takes it, looking utterly perplexed and you smile and step out of the closet again.

-

And suddenly it’s just the two of you and Benji doesn’t know if he can do this and knows that he can’t drop out either.

His breathing goes fast and uneven, he’s waiting for Ethan’s voice in his ear, telling him that they have the arms dealers, while he creeps down a narrow hallway beneath the museum. It’s cold, it’s dark, it’s dusty and your breath ghosts over his neck again and again.

“We could die here,” he mumbles, “If we don’t find the bomb soon enough or can’t stop it-”

“‘s not going to happen,” you mumble behind him and he can feel your right hand touching his back in a comforting manner, “We’re doing this together we’re going to get out of this together.”

“Really?” He whispers and stops, “Do you really think we can be together after this?”

He tries to look back at you in the dark, tries to find your face to look at.

“Because I really want to be with you after this,” he says, “Not as Scotty, but as Benji… If you’d let me.”

-

You push the chewing gum around in your mouth, careful not to crack it open, careful to find the words you need.

“I’d love to,” you mumble instead of saying the three words you’ve wanted to say for so long, “But we have to move forward.”

“Yes, right,” he answers and steps forward, a bit faster than he needs too and a bit less careful than he should have.

You hear the movement before you can see the flash of metal in the dim light of the countdown and suddenly there’s bright light, Fred’s angry face and a gun pressed against Scotty’s, no, Benji’s temple.

“I’ll shoot him,” Fred says and you know he doesn’t bluff, “Put down your gun, Bomb-girl and let me go.”

“Is that really all you want?” You ask and he smirks.

“No. Glad that you’re asking. You will handcuff him to the wall, I will handcuff you to the wall and then I’ll run and you’ll take the blame for this fine weapon doing it’s job.

You look over to the bomb in the middle of the room. Fred’s flashlight doesn’t reach all of it, but that’s not necessary, you now the mechanism. You’ve designed it.

“You sold them a Debbie?” You ask, enraged and Fred’s laughter booms in the small room, the thick stone walls echoing the noise.

“Smart girl. Now drop the gun.” He lifts his own gun, cocks it and presses it against Benji’s head again, showing you without words what he’s about to do.

“Alright, alright,” you hold up your hands, “I’m doing what you want.”

You lower yourself to your knees, putting your gun slowly to the floor, not letting Fred out of your sight. You have only one shot at this and you can only hope that Benji will react the right way.

Your teeth crack the hull of the first chewing gum and you pull your chin up and spit it right into Fred’s face.

He screams when the acid hits him and drops the flashlight. There’s a crack and darkness again and you move forward, hitting Fred and bringing him down.

He hits your right arm and you yelp out in pain. He throws you off and you land on the floor, trying to grab for a weapon to defend yourself with when there’s the sound of gunshots and a body landing heavy on the floor.

“Scotty?” You scream in panic and then there’s light again, less bright, but enough to see him smiling at you.

“It’s Benji.” You look at him and then at Fred on the floor. There’s an ugly wound right on his nose where the acid hit him. He’s looking at you, blood gushing out from his mouth when he tries to form words but you take his gun from him and get up, handing the gun to Benji.

“Thank you,” You stop to look at him for a moment but shake yourself out of it, “I’m going to take care of the bomb, you keep an eye on him.”

“Will do.”

You pick your gun up from the floor and walk over to the bomb, eying the Countdown nervously before moving on to disable the bomb.

“You can do this, right?” Benji asks and you groan in frustration, “I made this bomb, of course I can do this.”

“You made it?”

“Yes, well, I designed it. But they’ve changed something in the set-up which is completely… well, it will take me a second, just-” you a cable and take a deep breath, “keep quiet for a second, okay?”

You take another deep breath and pull the detonator from it’s casing, a tiny little capsule made of glass, filled with chemicals you’ve mixed yourself.

One wrong movement and you’re all dead, you think with that rush of adrenaline that you always feel when working on bombs. You pull the detonator free and hold it up in triumph, “I got it.”

-


	10. The one time we had to be honest

You’re leaning back in the cushioned seats of the jet, the bomb in a paper box in your lap, the detonator in a safe box somewhere else. Your arm still hurts like hell and Vega is using your other arm as her head rest while ogling Agent Brandt like the shameless woman she is.

“Go talk to him,” you tell her but she shrugs instead.

“Nah. I kissed him. He’s supposed to talk to me first.”

“I’m never going to take any advice from you again if you don’t talk to him now.”

“Rude,”

Vega answers when Brandt gets up from where he has been talking to Jane and comes over.

“Vega… Care to talk?”

Vega smiles brightly. “Not a bit. Take a seat.”

“Alone.”

Vega blows a raspberry at him. “Spoilsport,” she calls him but gets up and taps your temple with two fingers at the same time. “Take my advice. Talk to him.”

You have a retort ready on your lips but swallow it back down when you remember that you’re not alone and that everyone can hear you if you choose to make a fool of yourself.

You look down at the remains of the Debbie bomb instead when a heavy body drops down on the cushioned seat next to you.

“So…”, Benji mumbles, “Fred’s going to survive it, I heard?”

“What a pity?” You mumble and Benji huffs out a laugh and takes your hand as if it is as easy as this. And maybe it is.

Maybe all you need is a bit of honesty and a bit more of love.

“So… we’re being honest to each other now?” You ask and watch him play with your fingers.

“If you want?”

You smile and move your thumb to draw a little circle on the palm of his hand.

“Looks like we have a lot of lies to clear… Anything you didn’t lie about in our relationship?”

He smiles back. “I do make a mean Chicken Alfredo.”

“My sister’s Grilled Chicken Sandwich is still better.”

“You keep saying that but I haven’t tried it yet.”

“You will,” you promise, “And I don’t want to hear a word about her name.”

“What?” He laughs, eyes twinkling with amusement, “What’s her name.”

“Peggy,” you tell him.

“Peggy Baker?” He asks and you laugh back at him. “She got married to a Baker, okay?!” You defend yourself, “It’s not my fault I can’t bake.”

“I can teach you.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

-

“I hate you guys,” Vega grumbles when you step into the hospital room, smiling, carrying a paper box, “You come in here, smiling and I’m not even allowed a cup of coffee.”

“They have tea,” Benji offers and Vega flips her middle finger at him.

“Tea sucks. I want coffee. Now get over the present you’re having for me. I didn’t push a baby out of me without getting presents afterwards.”

You laugh and step forward and hand her the box. She lifts it eagerly and looks down at the cake.

“This looks awful. Did you drop it?”

“We made it together,” You exclaim, “And after three failed attempts, Benji made me do the decorating.”

Vega snorts and scratches some of the icing off the cake.

“Is that supposed to be Will’s name? It looks like a lot of loops.”

“Try writing with icing, it’s hard,” you defend and hand her a fork, “And eat. Benji wants to know what it tastes like.”

Vega snorts and pushes the fork deep into the cake, tearing a piece out of it and popping it into her mouth. She groans in delight.

“This is great. You know what, Benji, divorce that chipmunk and marry me instead. I will eat every one of your cakes.”

“Nah, thanks,” Benji declines, “I’m quite happy as it is.”

“Traitor,” Vega exclaims but smiles brightly the moment the door opens again, “Will, come here, they brought us cake and they wrote your name wrong.”

Will rolls his eyes at that and steps in, a bundle in his arms, “I don’t care about my name on a cake, I care about my baby.”

“Spoilsport.”

-

And there’s the moment where you both lie in bed together on an much too early morning, legs tangled, arms thrown to the side and you’re drooling on his shoulder and his nose is pushed deep into your hair and everything is warm and dreamy and fine until the phones on your night tables ring.

There’s something about being an agent that let’s you jump whenever your phone rings. Because you never know who’s on the other side of the line.

And you slip out of the grasp you have on each other night after night and grab your phones and answer, the same word at the same time, in the same tone of voice only an active agent can muster.

“Dunn?”


End file.
